Parallel
by squarey
Summary: It's a wrap, Last Scene, First Apartment. Mike, Bobby, and Alex. One scene for each of them, all on a common theme. Give me a read and come and play with me by giving me a scene.
1. Breakfast time

**Author's Note:** So, the LOCI characters are not mine. I borrow them (without asking).

Each chapter is a scene on a common theme – maybe like that montage of character stuff that I crave on LOCI but do not see very often. So, come play with me, shoot me a review, tell me what you think, and inspire me by sending me a scene.

* * *

_**Breakfast time**_

* * *

Breakfast. Well, breakfast time anyway. Or, maybe it was more like brunch. Mike Logan stood in front of his refrigerator, wearing pajama pants and a t-shirt. It was about 10:00am and he had just crawled out of bed. It was Sunday, and after a late Saturday night, he liked sleeping in. Hell, he just liked sleeping in. He opened his refrigerator door, thinking about something to drink. He loved coffee, but for the first thing to drink, he dearly loved a Coke. Something about the bright caffeinated bubbles on his tongue felt like a great way to start to the day. He loved the splift noise the pop tab made, he loved the fizzy swoosh as some of the pressure released from the can, and he loved the icy cold feel of the can in his hand. He closed his eyes as he drank half the contents in a few swallows.

As he set the can on the counter and turned to start a pot of coffee (you can never have too much caffeine), he thought about that new fangled pop tab. He thought about the old fashioned pull tabs from when he was a kid. He thought about cleaning up the tiny dank living room of his mom's house, and having to clean up the place after whatever she had done and whoever she had done it with the night before. He thought about the beer cans, with their separate tear off tabs kind of littered on table, on the floor. He shivered, and found he had a new appreciation for that new fangled pop tab on his can of Coke, and the memory went a long way in terms of explaining why he preferred to drink beer from a bottle or from a glass.

* * *

Breakfast. Well, breakfast time anyway. Alex Eames ran her palms along the sinewy muscles in her arms, stretching the sleep away from her body. She wasn't certain if she was in the mood for breakfast, but she knew she would feel better if she ate something before she went for her run. _Maybe a banana_, she thought to herself as she looked at the bright yellow perfectly ripe bananas on her counter top. She glanced at the clock, just before 8:00am. On the days she worked, she had to squeeze her run in before her shift, and it was often cold and still dark. She liked Sundays, she could slow things down a bit and actually go for a run when the sun was up and the winter day was a bit warmer.

She reached forward for the banana and grabbed a table knife from the drawer. She expertly started the peel with the knife. When a banana was at perfect ripeness, forcing the peel with the top of the banana always seemed to smash that portion of the banana. And, who liked pulverized banana? So, Alex started the banana with a single small slice of the table knife, perfect peel, for a perfect banana. She took a large bite and continued to stretch as she chewed. She was thinking to herself that maybe she would extend her run for a few miles, today felt like a good day.

* * *

Breakfast. Well, breakfast time anyway. Or, maybe it was just simply dawn. Bobby Goren shuffled into his kitchen and opened his refrigerator door. What to drink, what to eat… not much. He stood in front of the blaring bright light of his refrigerator letting the cold air wash across his tired mind. He closed his eyes for a moment, still half asleep, and stumbled sideways a bit. He was feeling older now. Something about the past year made it feel like decades of life had finally caught up with him. 

He reached into the refrigerator and pulled out a container of orange juice, with lots of pulp. He looked at the words "lots of pulp" and smiled. Funny words. Though honestly, he really did appreciate that pulp was the key to a good glass of orange juice. Orange juice without pulp, you might as well be drinking Tang. He poured the orange juice into a coffee mug and was about to take a sip, when it occurred to him that he had just brushed his teeth. Orange juice and toothpaste was a hideous combination, so he reached into his freezer and retrieved an icy bottle of vodka. He took a deep mouthful, swishing the nearly frozen vodka ever so slightly across his tongue before swallowing, effectively neutralizing the toothpaste. He lifted up the coffee mug of orange juice again, contemplating taking a sip, but first he poured a generous measure of vodka in as well. Steady up, he thought. No work today. It was Sunday.

* * *


	2. Goodnight kiss

**_The goodnight kiss_**

* * *

The goodnight kiss. Mike Logan liked full body contact with the goodnight kiss. When he kissed a woman goodnight, he liked to take her in his arms, pulling her close to him. The kiss could be light and soft, or deep and intimate. But the full body contact was key. The feel of her curves against him was almost better than the actual kiss. So, as he stood in front of her, instead of leading with the kiss, he led with the embrace. He stepped forward, opening his arms to her, moving his arms around her, pulling her close to him, against him. He held her for a moment, his eyes holding hers. He watched her part her lips with expectation, close her eyes in anticipation. He savored the feel of her breasts against his chest, and then he kissed her so lightly, so tenderly, that he could practically feel her melt in his arms. Mike Logan loved the goodnight kiss.

* * *

The goodnight kiss. In her lifetime, Alex Eames had been the recipient of a lot of goodnight kisses. She remembered her first date when she was only about 15. She had been amazed her father had let her go, but the date was the son of another NYPD officer, so her father thought him trust worthy. She smiled, remembering how the opposite had been true. When it had come time for the goodnight kiss, he had abruptly jumped toward her, practically slamming her back into her front door. He did not kiss her softly, he leapt right into the hard pressure of the open mouthed kiss. She had kneed him gently in the groin to get him to back off. Nowadays, she realized she would like to be the one giving the goodnight kiss, though not to a boyfriend, or even a husband. She would like to give the goodnight kiss to a child, a child of her own.

* * *

The goodnight kiss. Bobby realized he didn't have as many opportunities for the goodnight kiss as he used to. Even just a few years ago, there were many goodnight kisses in a given month. Lately, he realized that he could barely remember his last goodnight kiss. But here he was in front of her, his mind consumed with the logistics of an incredible, heart-fluttering goodnight kiss. So, he slowly reached forward, gently placing his hand around the soft nape of her neck, and leaned in while pulling her closer. He brushed his lips against hers, feather soft at first, then again, a bit more insistent. She yielded into him, her arms lacing up and around his neck, pressing closer. So, he moved his arms around her, moving his hands down the inward curve of her waist, the outward curve of her hip, deepening the kiss. He liked the goodnight kiss. He missed the goodnight kiss.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Alrighty readers, give me a moment, a time of day, something to tickle my brain... also, let me know what you think... which goodnight kiss do you like?


	3. Sunrise

_**Sunrise**_

* * *

Ah sunrise. Mike Logan's least favorite time of day. He remembered a time when sunrise was the end of his day. When he could work all day, play all night, and watch the sun rise with friends or with a friend-with-benefits. Those days were done. Now sunrise was the beginning of his day. He found, as years slid by, that he actually needed sleep. He couldn't skate by on no hours, or just a few hours. He really needed about 6 or so hours of good sleep to make even a semi-meaningful contribution to his day. 

BEEP.BEEP.BEEP. His alarm was blaring in his brain, telling him to GET UP. He opened his eyes slowly, and realized that it wasn't even sunrise. He grumpily wondered when the clocks fell back. Having to wake up at 7:15 with it being pitch black outside made it exceedingly difficult to get out of bed. So, he rolled over and slammed his hand onto the snooze button and decided to close his eyes for another 7 minutes of heavenly sleep. Maybe then there would be a hint of sunrise in the sky.

* * *

Ah sunrise. Alex Eames looked at the photograph of herself and her husband Joe Dutton. They were snuggled close to each other seated in front of a bonfire on the beach at sunrise. She was amazed at how young she looked, how happy she looked. She ran her fingers across the photograph, touching Joe's smiling face, touching her smiling face, across the bright pinks and oranges of the sunrise in the sky. You never really know that life is good until that life is gone. She knew she was a bit revisionist when it came to remembering her happiness with Joe. She knew that she and Joe had their ups and downs. But, they had loved each other, wildly, truly. She wistfully wondered if she would ever allow herself to love like that again.

* * *

Ah sunrise. Bobby Goren stood in a blazing hot shower. He leaned forward, palms braced against the shower wall, letting the water pound on his aching back, on the stiffness in his neck. His eyes were closed and he could practically see the heat of the shower in his brain, like the brilliant reds and oranges of sunrise. He rolled his shoulders, loosening his muscles, attempting to stretch the kinks from his back. He continued to think about sunrise, how when the sun kissed the sky in the morning it seemed to wash away the sins of the night. He thought about the sins he was so desperately trying to wash away, and prayed that the hot water would last just a bit longer.

* * *

**Author's Note:** Thanks Janxangel for "sunrise". These are the three images that popped into my brain. Of course I would like very much to hop in that hot shower with Bobby and help him wash away his sins :) 


	4. Shoe shopping

_**Shoe shopping**_

* * *

Shoe shopping. Mike Logan could think of a million other things that he would rather be doing than shoe shopping. But he sat, his newspaper in hand, patiently waiting while she shopped for shoes. 

"What do you think?" She walked toward him, doing a slight sexy spin in front of him, modeling a pair of impossibly high stiletto heels. He started by looking at her feet, at her perfectly polished deep red toes, then he ran his eyes up her long shapely legs, and as she spun in her skirt, he caught just the slightest sight of the top of her stockings and was pleasantly surprised to notice a dark lacey garter. Next he moved his eyes to her full round breasts and finally to the devilish smile on her face. She had just put a whole new twist on shoe shopping.

* * *

Shoe shopping. Alex Eames loved to shop for shoes. It was kind of a girly thing to do, and on the job she did not have much room to be girly. Strolling through the shoe department she spied the perfect pair of boots that she had tried on just a few weeks ago. She reached out, relishing the feel of the supple black leather, running her finger down the slender 3 inch heel. They would look incredible with the new pair of dark jeans she had in her closet at home. She had not yet worn the jeans because they were a little long, but they would be the ideal length with these boots. 

"Ma'am, please let me know if I can help you with anything." A salesperson came over to stand nearby. He was young and handsome and Alex wondered when young, handsome sales people had started thinking of her as ma'am.

"I'll take these." Alex said, specifying her size. She decided that she would look less like a "ma'am" in these kick-ass boots.

* * *

Shoe shopping. For Bobby Goren, shoe shopping mostly involved point and click. Not every store carried his shoe size. Therefore, he had a reliable internet site that sold his favorite shoes, in his size. So he sat in front of his computer shopping for shoes. Well, at least he thought he was shopping for shoes. A friend had coerced him into joining her at yoga class in a few days (well she was maybe more than a friend) and he realized he had no idea what actually happened at a yoga class, let alone what you wore to a yoga class. And, as he went to the site he liked to use to shop for shoes, it occurred to him, that he wasn't even sure you wore shoes for yoga class. One thing he knew for certain was that he would probably be needing a major prescription pain killer, muscle relaxant, or something, soon after going to yoga class. Or, he smiled as he thought to himself, maybe he should take that something before yoga class so he would half a shot at being the least bit limber.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Wow! My head is spinning with all of the possibilities you have ponied up. Thanks! And, thanks to deliriousdancer, this one struck my brain first. Enjoy :) 


	5. The makeout song

_**The make-out song**_

* * *

The make-out song. To this day, Mike Logan could not attend an Irish funeral without thinking about Shawna Murphy. It was inevitable that at an Irish funeral, a good one anyway, whether it be formal and somber at the grave site, or drunken and loud at the wake, _O__ Danny Boy_ would eventually come out in song. For Mike Logan, the song _O__Danny B__o__y_ brought back vivid images from the fall when he was 15. He was at a funeral for one of his friend's grandfathers. This time, the rendition of _O __Danny Boy_ was a bunch of drunk old men, actually with excellent voices for the tune, singing at the wake. Mike remembers it vividly. He was out front in one of the cars with Shawna Murphy, making out like the over-sexed adolescents they were at the time. Shawna had been 17, older, more experienced. To this day, hands down, Mike recognized that moment as the best kissing moment in his entire life. So, whenever he heard _O __Danny Boy_Mike had a strange mixed reaction of remembering Shawna Murphy, while experiencing the sorrow for the deceased connected with every Irish funeral he had ever attended.

* * *

The make-out song. Alex Eames sat in the driver's seat of the SUV. For once, Bobby was not mercilessly fidgeting with every single aspect of the passenger side of the car. He was not messing with the radio, he was not moving the seat, he was not moving the window up and down, and he was not even shuffling through papers. He was sitting uncharacteristically sedate, kind of looking out the window at the buildings passing by. Alex was grateful for this moment of still, she found herself able to listen to the song on the radio – _Here in My Heart_ by Chicago. She smiled to herself. She had been at a friend's house recently, listening to music when she came across several Chicago CDs. He had gladly played them, and they had ended up kissing goodnight to _Here in My Heart_. A new make-out song by an old band.

* * *

The make-out song. Bobby Goren sat in the passenger's side of the SUV letting Eames drive to the scene. He always let Eames drive to the scene. He preferred to fidget in the passenger's seat and think great thoughts. Today he was fiddling with the radio stations. He landed on Paul McCartney's _Maybe I'm Amazed_, and paused to listen to the first verse - _Maybe I'm __a__mazed __a__t __t__he __w__ay __y__ou __l__ove __m__e __a__ll __t__he __t__ime, __m__aybe I'm __a__fraid __o__f __t__he __w__ay __I love you, maybe I'm amazed at the way you pulled me out of time, and hung me on a line, maybe I'm amazed at the way I really need you, maybe I'm a man, and maybe I'm a lonely man, who's in the middle of something that he doesn't really understand…._

Bobby smiled to himself. The other day in the elevator he hadn't possessed the presence of mind to place the tune, but listening to it now almost made him blush. Lately he had been engaged in "extracurricular activities" with a CSU named Neve. She was demonstrative, exuberant, and very physical. The other day in the elevator she was physically putting the moves on him. She had her I-pod blasting so loud that he could hear this song clearly playing as she threw him back against the elevator wall, untucking his shirt along the way, running her hands up his back, leaving fingernail welts in their wake. Her mouth had found his, and she began greedily kissing him, kind of nibbling ever so slightly on his bottom lip. He remembered her hands were just working around to the front of his pants when the elevator had come to a stop. Then, just has suddenly as her playful assault had begun, it ended. And by the time the elevator doors opened, she was standing in her corner, and he in his. Bobby felt pretty certain that he would never be able to hear this song again without thinking about that moment in the elevator.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ I'm thinking most of us have a make-out song... 


	6. Dreams

_**Dreams**_

_**

* * *

**_Dreams. On some level, Mike Logan knew that he was dreaming. He had a suspect pressed up against the wall. He was holding his gun to the guy's temple, yelling at the guy "YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHERE HE IS, YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT YOU DID WITH HIM, YOU'RE GOING TO TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, OR I'M GOING TO…" Mike didn't get a chance to finish what he was saying, his partner's voice from behind him brought his attention around. 

"Oh, I'm shaking in my blue suede shoes." Lennie Briscoe said from behind Mike.

"That's my line." Mike smiled, so glad to see his old partner again. But the image was ripped away from him as the blaring sound of his alarm clock brought him fully awake.

* * *

Dreams. Alex Eames was face down, mouth open, completely under the blankets, sound asleep – but her brain was busy dreaming. She was sitting on a couch, between two other women. There was a man talking to her, to them, over some kind of loud speaker. At first she felt a bit disoriented, but after a while she realized that she belonged here, on this couch, with these women, listening to this man outline some kind of important aspect of a case. At first, the man's voice was unfamiliar, it was deeper, more resonant than either Deakins or Ross. But at some subconscious level, she realized that she had unwavering respect for the man, complete faith in what he was saying. 

"Sabrina, Jill, Alex… take this one seriously. He may be charming, but he is armed and dangerous." Charlie warned his angels before hanging up the phone.

* * *

Dreams. Wouldn't it be lovely to dream? However to dream, you need to sleep. And, sleep often escaped Bobby Goren. Tonight he was sitting on his couch, watching _Myth Busters_ drinking entirely too much scotch. So, as Bobby's drunken brain kind of drifted into being completely passed out, he was standing next to Adam Savage posing the challenge to determine if the buttered side of toast always falls face down.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Thanks to guitar73girl for "dreams". Enjoy :)


	7. Shaving

_**Shaving**_

_**

* * *

**_Shaving. Mike Logan stood in his bathroom, humming. Sometimes he just couldn't resist cranking up a little Frank Sinatra as he readied for an evening out. _Luck be a lady tonight__… luck__ let a gentleman see… how nice a dame you can be…_

He had finished shaving and he placed a blazing hot wash rag to his face to finish. He reached over and splashed some skin bracer on his palms and laid them lightly on his face, closing his eyes as he appreciated the musky fragrance. He shrugged into his dark shirt, buttoning up the front, fixing the collar. He stood, admiring himself in the mirror, and couldn't resist a playful wink at himself ..._luck be a lady tonight_!

* * *

Shaving. Alex Eames hated shaving in other people's showers. Hell, she just hated shaving. She was standing in a small shower stall, razor in hand, considering the logistics of shaving her legs. Ideally, she liked to use some kind of shave gel, but short of that she would settle for shampoo. So, she had smeared some shampoo on her right calf, and was now looking for a place to hook her toes. At home, she had a tub shower, so she used the tub ledge. But she was at her sister's house, in the guest bath, and there was nothing. She was headed straight into work, and she had plans after that. Brand new razor in hand, she felt fairly certain that this was not going to be an easy task. So resigned herself to the task at hand and she kind of scooted back and propped her foot as best she could against the wall. She sure as hell hoped that when she wriggled into her little black dress tonight that he would appreciate her smoothly shaved legs.

* * *

Shaving. Bobby Goren leaned forward and rubbed the steamy condensation off the mirror in his small bathroom. He ran his hand across his face, thinking about shaving. He hated shaving, he hated to take the time. He was thinking he could probably go another day.

"Can I help you with that?" She slipped into his bathroom, standing very close to him in the small space. She ran two of her fingers lightly across his bristly jaw.

"With shaving?" He asked, a bit surprised. She reached over and lifted the can of shaving cream. He watched her place some of the foamy stuff across her left fingers. She placed the lather along the right side of his jaw.

"You'll need to hold still." She smiled up at him. He was mesmerized by her closeness. She was the one who was never able to hold still. He looked at her, standing so close to him as she spread the shaving cream lightly across the other side of his face. He realized without make –up, the freckles across her nose were incredibly vivid, her lashes were naturally long and dark, her full lips naturally a soft, wet pink. She looked up into his eyes for a moment, and he held her eyes with his, looking at the dark rims around her pale grey irises. "Hold still." She said, reprimanding him softly as he fidgeted ever so slightly.

She ran the razor across his face, rinsing it in the warm running water of the sink, a clean smooth swath of skin now across his jaw. She was wrapped in a towel, the same as him, but hers was up and around her chest. He found himself looking at the faint freckles across the tops of her full breasts. She ran the razor along his jaw again, continuing to shave his face. It never occurred to him that shaving could be so sexy. He thought that perhaps he would have to start shaving every day.

* * *

**Author's note**: I skipped somewhat within the sequence of suggestions, but this one just kind of slammed into my brain. Thanks to Penn OHara for "shaving". And, thanks for the reviews! 


	8. A triggered memory

_**A memory tied to a food (or drink :)**_

* * *

Mike Logan leaned against the bar, waiting for the bartender to serve him his order. He couldn't help but notice an extremely attractive blonde, drinking alone. She really was quite beautiful, shoulder length hair, long shapely legs, full lips, wide spaced brown eyes. Mike wondered if she was waiting for someone. She wasn't exactly emanating that "come-hither" vibe. So, he subtly watched her as he waited for his drinks. 

He realized that she had noticed that he was looking at her, and she offered him a kind of tentative smile. Again, she did not brazenly meet his eyes and openly invite him to join her, so he kind of returned the smile, but stood his distance, waiting for the bartender. It occurred to him that she may not be waiting for someone. She had her coat underneath her, her purse beside her. If she had been waiting for someone, she could have used those items to save the seat next to her.

He was about to walk in her direction when the bartender served her a fresh drink. "Gin and tonic." The bartender confirmed, setting the drink in front of her. She smiled and nodded, accepting the drink. Mike shuddered, he could not help himself. He could not stand gin, he could not stand the thought of it, the smell of it, and he really could not stand to be with a woman whose favored drink involved gin. He realized at this point in his life it was probably a bit irrational, that he could probably try to let the aversion go, but his mother had preferred gin. So, his attraction for the blonde was gone the moment he realized she was drinking gin.

* * *

"Here's to us." Alex Eames looked up at Mike Logan as he said the words. In addition to his beer, he had returned to the table with four shots of tequila. He placed the heavily filled shot glasses in the center of the table. Alex shuddered, she could not help herself. She had agreed to join Logan, Goren, and Wheeler for a little celebratory drink. Major Case Squad's close rate for the month had earned recognition from way up the food chain, and Ross had mentioned that was in large part due to their efforts. 

"Don't like tequila?" Mike quirked an eyebrow at Alex as he sat down. Alex could not stand tequila. The thought of it, the smell of it, brought back a wild weekend she had spent with her sister down in Mexico, many, many years ago. Alex closed her eyes and flashed back to a much younger version of herself, laid out across the bar on a boat off the coast of Mexico, with some guy pouring tequila and margarita mixer directly into her mouth. The weekend had been an incredible amount of fun, but she would never, ever, ever drink tequila again.

* * *

"I'll take it." Bobby Goren said as he reached for the shot glass. In quick succession, he gladly did his shot, and then took Alex's shot of tequila. 

"To Major Case." Logan raised his shot glass with Bobby and knocked back his shot. One shot remained, the one for Wheeler. She was returning from the bar with a fresh drink in her hand. She sat down, and smiled the smile of someone having clearly just missed something. She looked at the three empty shot glasses, then at Logan.

"Did I miss something?" She asked, setting her drink on the table.

"We were just toasting to a month of good work." Logan supplied. Bobby was trying to focus, trying to listen to what Mike was saying. His brain was pleasantly fuzzy from drinking too many drinks over a relatively short time span. But he realized that it wasn't the pleasant feel of alcohol on his brain that was distracting him.

"Is that a rum and coke?" Bobby asked of Megan Wheeler, not really believing that anyone out of high school really drank that drink. She nodded, looking at him. Bobby shuddered, he could not help himself. He could not stand rum, he could not stand the thought of it, the smell of it. He remembered in High School going to a party with his brother Frank. All night long, Frank kept placing rum and cokes in his hand, until literally Bobby could barely stand. Bobby shivered as he remembered how violently ill he had gotten. He reached forward, and quickly took Megan Wheeler's shot of tequila, trying to vanquish the thought of rum from his brain.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ So, this is a spin on _pfchristine_ asking for a scene where a certain food brings back a memory. Nothing food related was spinning around in my brain, but I think many of us probably have a pretty significant aversion to certain alcohols :) 


	9. All in a day's mail

**_All in a day's mail_**

**_...what can we discern about our characters by what is in their mail_**

**_

* * *

_**Mike Logan's mail for the day: 

Credit card application  
Bill  
Credit card application  
Bill  
Post card from Phil Cerreta, fishing off the coast of Florida  
_Muscle Car Enthusiast_ magazine  
20 percent off at Bed, Bath, and Beyond  
_Car and Driver _magazine  
AARP membership solicitation

* * *

Alex Eame's mail for the day: 

Renewal notice for the _Harry and David_ fruit of the month club  
Bill  
Bill  
_Title Nine _catalog  
20 percent off at Bed, Bath, and Beyond  
Credit card application  
Credit card application  
Lower your mortgage rate advertisement  
_Victoria's Secret_ catalog  
_Pottery Barn_ catalog  
_Williams Sonoma_ catalog  
_Bird Talk _magazine

* * *

Bobby Goren's mail for the delivery 

Bill  
Bill  
20 percent off at Bed, Bath, and Beyond  
_Rochester Big and Tall_ catalog  
Bill  
Credit card application  
The quarterly issue of _Criminology_  
Bill  
Valentine's Day Card

* * *

**Author's note:** Murraystudent asked about a day's mail. Though, her life is much more colorful than mine, for her review lists some much more interesting stuff than my brain could muster... Enjoy! And, thanks for the continued reviews. 


	10. Interrogation prep

_**Interrogation prep**_

* * *

For Mike Logan, prepping for an interrogation was all about knowing when to step in. He had been through several partners in the past few years, so he found he did not really play a predefined roll. With Wheeler, he kind of leaned against the wall watching the suspect, trying to gauge when it was time to play "bad cop" – to be the pissed off one, to possibly get in the guys face, to maybe yell a bit, and say time is short, that maybe the suspect should do himself a favor and just come clean with what he knows. With Falacci, he leaned against the same wall, but with Falacci it was more about deciding when to step in and play "good cop". This was kind of a new one for Mike, but he found he rather enjoyed it. He liked rolling his eyes pretending like he found Falacci's behavior to be a little over the top, her accusations a bit rash, he liked worming himself into confidence of the suspect, smoothing things over, gently extracting the information they needed to move the case forward, or close the case. Either way, he started in the same place, prepping himself by kind of leaning against the wall, taking things in.

* * *

For Alex Eames, prepping for an interrogation was all about finding center. She had been working with Goren long enough to know that he would do the unexpected and that she was the steady, the straight person, the opener for the conversation. Goren was the closer. She was both familiar and comfortable with this model. So, she stood in the ladies room washing her hands, looking at her reflection in the mirror, studying her placid but slightly pleasant interrogation room façade. She rehearsed in her mind potential avenues of conversation to get into good graces with the suspect, to build a rapport, so when Goren stepped in with his erratic questions, often phrased as after thoughts, and his invasion of personal space, or the way he kind of hovered on the periphery of personal space, the suspect would have no choice but to ally with Alex. She reached out and toweled off her hands. She walked toward where Goren was sitting at his desk meticulously organizing papers in his portfolio so they could appear to randomly fall out onto the table in a miraculously perfect order. She thought to herself, there was no time like the present. So, she tagged Goren and she headed in.

* * *

Bobby Goren leaned in the far back corner of the interrogation room. Prepping for an interrogation was both about the physical, like getting what he wanted to reveal in perfect order in his portfolio, and also about the psychological. Before stepping into the room, he had prepped the physical evidence he wanted to reveal, but often times he felt him self standing in the room mounting his psychological attack.

Bobby was so confident in Eames that he barely listened to what she was saying. He was absolutely certain that she would build the perfect foundation. So, he was studying the suspect for certain tells or idiosyncrasies that he could exploit when it came to be his turn in the questioning. From the angle where he stood, he felt fairly certain that the suspect was uncomfortable. Bobby stood just out of peripheral vision, so the suspect would have to turn away from Eames to look at him. This was a perfect position for the time being, for the suspect did not want to look away from Eames, that would somehow convey dishonesty – to physically turn away from someone you were supposed to be talking with. Bobby also noticed that the suspect kept aligning the pad of paper and pen, kind of equidistant from the edges of the table, so that the pen was almost perfectly parallel to the long side of the pad of paper. Bobby smiled to himself, throwing this guy off balance was almost going to be too easy. Step 1, mess with the pad of paper and pen, Step 2, stand a little to close, maybe spill that cup of coffee so the guy risks getting the coffee mess on his shirt or his pants, Step 3, lay the portfolio down on the table in an effort to help, at which point key photographs "accidentally" slide from the portfolio. Child's play, Bobby thought to himself. So, with no time like the present, Bobby walked over and slid the pad of paper askew, sending the pen rolling onto the floor.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_** Thanks to rindy713 for this idea. I'm not sure if this was what she was after. I think rindy would be much better at the "prepping for the big game" angle (you should read her basketball details in "Holding Court") - so this may be more how my brain works... Enjoy! 


	11. Commute to work

_**Commute to work**_

_**

* * *

**_Mike Logan beat his hands on the steering wheel along to the rhythm of the song he had cranked up so loud that he could not hear the traffic honking around him. His eyes darted to the clock on his dash, he was cutting it close. He fidgeted in his seat a bit, the traffic not giving an inch. He considered calling in, maybe he needed to respond to something, anything that would make it legit for him to put his lights on and get around this parking lot of traffic. 

The song on the radio had ended, and he realized that now he was just beating on his steering wheel out of frustration. He yanked out his cell and dialed his partner.

"I'm only 6 blocks away." Mike said, teeth gritted. "Anything, anything so I don't have to suffer through these 6 blocks?" Mike asked hopefully. He realized that he was practically begging for something to have gone horribly wrong somewhere in the city so that Major Case would catch the crime. He almost felt guilty, but frustration won out, and he really wished that Ross would send him turning around without clocking in at the squad room.

"Nothing urgent." His partner replied. "No one was hideously murdered so that you might not have to suffer through those last 6 blocks." His partner read his mind.

"Oh someone was hideously murdered all right, it happens all the time." Logan replied. "I'm just hoping someone notices the blood, or the smell, or the absence of that special someone in the next few minutes and calls it in before I jump out of the car and hideously murder whoever the hell is creating this traffic."

* * *

Alex Eames sat patiently in traffic idly drumming her fingers on the top of her steering wheel. She glanced at her clock on her dash. Even if traffic kept moving at this snail's pace, she figured she probably would still make it into the squad on time. Usually she cut it kind of early, so the unexpected delay was only impacting the cup of coffee she liked to buy before heading up to the squad room. Sometimes she liked the quiet of her car in the morning without Goren fidgeting, shuffling through papers, tapping the glass of the window, surfing across the radio stations. So, this morning she did not mind the traffic.

* * *

Bobby Goren felt like he had spent forever on the subway that morning. He was exhausted, he hadn't slept well the night before. The subway had kept stopping and starting, so he had ended up getting off a stop earlier than usual. He thought he could probably walk faster than the subway was moving. He regretted the decision as soon as he hit the blast of cold winter air. He was tired, he was hungry, and his back hurt. And now, he was freezing. He pulled his cap down around his ears and his scarf up around his face and tried to pick up the pace. He was maybe 4 blocks from work when he spotted Eames sitting in her warm and toasty car, kind of poking along in traffic. Perfect timing, he thought, he had some papers in his bag he wanted to look over and talk through with her. So, he watched her car for a moment, and when she came to a stop he stepped off the curb and tapped on the passenger side window. He could see her look at him, a bit of surprise in her eyes. She rolled down the window without unlocking the door.

"Eames, unlock the door." Bobby said.

"Really?" She asked, "You'll probably beat me there if you keep walking." She offered, but Bobby didn't catch the clue. He simply wanted to get into the warm car and sit down, and by talking with her about the case he would kind of be starting his work day.

"Unlock the door." Bobby furrowed his brow and repeated his request. Eames resigned herself to the inevitable and rolled up the window, unlocking the door to let him in.

* * *

**Author's note:** Persimmon offered this one – "stuck in traffic to and/or from work". I commute/work in a major city. This morning I felt like Mike Logan. Thanks for reading/ reviewing. 


	12. A favorite meal

_**A favorite meal**_

* * *

Mike Logan's favorite meal was only partially about the food, it was more about the friendship. He sat at the bar enjoying a deliciously icy cold black-and-tan waiting for Phil Cerreta. Each month they met one another for a meal. This month they had picked one of their favorite barbeque joints. So, in as much as Mike was looking forward to a most excellent meal of ribs and coleslaw, he was also looking forward to hearing about Phil's most recent vacation in Florida. Phil was one of Mike's oldest friends, and that said a lot. As time went by Mike realized he didn't exactly acquire friends easily. So, each month they shared a meal and gossiped like girls about who's who in NYPD and who's doing who in NYPD. Even though Phil was retired, he always had access to spectacular information. Mike realized that the best thing he had this time around was the affair between Ross and Rodgers, which wasn't even really an affair since the both of them were single. 

"Mikey." Phil slapped Mike on the back so hard that Mike almost fell off his stool.

"Man, it's good to see you." Mike stood, hugging Phil in that masculine back slapping kind of way.

"Yeah, is there less of you, you're looking pretty fit." Phil said, smiling his big charming smile.

"And you're looking pretty tan." Mike said, not saying that he thought that maybe there was a bit more of Phil. "I got your postcard…" Mike began the conversation, knowing that tonight was going turn into another favorite meal.

* * *

Alex Eames definitely had a favorite meal. It was a dish of her mother's – shrimp and grits. She appreciated that it was perhaps a bit incongruous that a blue collar yankee family would have perfected such a southern dish, but sometimes that was the way of things. Alex's maternal grandmother was from South Carolina, so sometimes cooking just passed through generations. 

Alex stood in her mother's kitchen, listening to a household of loud family members, as she added the grits to the boiling water. It was actually a relatively easy dish to prepare. You needed to have great shrimp, but even more importantly, great grits. To get the right coarse ground grits, Alex had to order them over the internet. So, her mom supplied the great shrimp, and she brought the stone ground grits.

"So, when are you going to make this dish for your family?" Her mother came up behind her and kissed her on the cheek. Alex had long since let go her mother's way of showing love by kind of slapping her at the same time, usually for Alex's single status.

"I am making this dish for my family." Alex smiled, she didn't care that her mother didn't quite understand her response. She simply swirled the grits once in the boiling water before turning back the heat and placing the lid on the pot.

* * *

Bobby Goren didn't really have a favorite meal per se. He pretty much liked food, any kind of food, and was willing to keep an open mind in terms of trying new food. So, when she invited him to her place for a vegetarian meal, he gladly accepted. On the way over, he almost stopped to pre-eat, maybe grab a burger or something filling, but he didn't. He opted to roll the dice and hoped that whatever vegetarian fare she had to offer would be filling. 

Bobby found himself in her kitchen, eating cheese and crackers, and a grape, or two, or six. The main dish was a vegetarian risotto, which involved a lot of time and a lot of stirring. They, or maybe it was more he, had finished nearly an entire bottle of wine as he stood helping her add vegetable broth and stirring the rice. The lack of food and the wine was making his brain feel pleasantly buzzy, so he didn't really mind that his arm hurt a bit. He watched her as she grated the cheese, chattering about her day. It occurred to him that her brain was probably buzzy on all of the adrenaline she generated in a day. So, while he was feeling kind of mellow, she was still pretty revved. She caught him looking at her, and smiled. She came over and added what looked to be the last bit of broth to the rice. The dish was getting creamy and thick, and was starting to smell incredible. Bobby was just about to ask for another glass of wine when she surprised him a bit by standing on her tip toes and kissing him softly. She threaded her hands behind his neck, pressing herself against him and kissing him behind his ear – _keep stirring_, she whispered softly, as he moved to put the spoon aside and take her fully in his arms. He did as she said, and kept stirring the rice, as he watched her deftly unbutton his shirt, pushing it to the floor. She untucked his undershirt, running her hands up his chest, around his sides. He watched her, captivated, as she undid the clasp of her dress, the whole thing coming open, and she let it slide to the floor. So, she stood in the kitchen, all curves and creamy skin in her skimpy underthings, smiling wickedly at him.

"I think you can stop stirring now." She said, and reached over to turn off the burner. They didn't get to the risotto until much later. But Bobby would have to say, if someone asked him, that vegetarian risotto was one of his favorite meals.

* * *

**Author's Note**: The idea of a favorite meal was from tigerlillee. I also have to give a shout-out to lennigeorge, her stories reminded me that Mike Logan potentially has a long standing friendship with Phil Cerreta. Thanks to both for the inspiration. Kind of a fun one :) 


	13. A crying baby

_**Waiting with a crying baby nearby**__**

* * *

**_Mike Logan stood at the pharmacy counter trying to figure out the mix-up. He found it nearly impossible to hear what the person behind the counter was saying, there was a father with a baby that was screaming and crying so loudly that Mike could barely hear himself. 

"I'm so sorry Mr. Logan, we just received your prescription, it will be about 20 minutes." The person said. Mike looked at the father pacing with the baby. The father was stroking the baby's back, running his hand softly across the baby's head, talking softly to the baby.

"20 minutes?" Mike asked, not really wanting to wait that long, especially with the baby crying through all of the father's efforts to soothe him.

"20 minutes." The pharmacist person repeated loudly over the baby's crying so Mike could hear.

"I'll come back tomorrow." Mike said, deciding that the prescription was not important enough to wait around for 20 minutes with a screaming baby waiting with him.

* * *

Alex Eames stood at the pharmacy counter trying to figure out the mix-up. She found it nearly impossible to hear what the cashier was saying, there was a mother with a baby that was screaming and crying so loudly that Alex could barely hear herself. 

"I'm sorry Ms. Eames, it will be another 20 minutes." The cashier said, and Alex nodded. Talking was useless, the only thing people in the store could hear was the screaming and crying of the baby. Alex offered a wan smile to the clearly tired mother, and decided to spend the next 20 minutes at the other end of the store looking at magazines.

* * *

Bobby Goren stood at the pharmacy counter trying to figure out the mix-up. He found it nearly impossible to hear what the pharmacist was saying, there was a father walking with a baby that was screaming and crying so loudly that Bobby could barely hear himself. 

"I'm sorry Mr. Goren, we don't have a prescription for you." The pharmacist was saying, but Bobby could only tell what she was saying because he was practically reading her lips.

"I, um, I phoned before I came over, and, um, someone told me the prescription was ready." Bobby realized the pharmacist probably couldn't really hear him. Bobby looked at the father who was awkwardly jostling the screaming baby. "Could you," Bobby caught the father's attention. Bobby was holding his hands out, "Could you, um, just…" Bobby tried to convey his meaning by holding out his hands for the baby. With all the screaming and crying, there was no way the father could hear Bobby's words. "JUST GIVE HER TO ME." Bobby loudly commanded the man, in such a cop's tone that the father automatically obeyed. Bobby took the baby girl and placed her over his shoulder. He slowed everything down, he wasn't jostling her randomly about like an over exhausted parent, he kind of rubbed her back gently, patted her bottom firmly, kind of settled into a rhythm. She cried for a few more moments, but her volume was greatly reduced.

"Mr. Goren." A different person from behind the pharmacy counter came forward with his prescription. Bobby continued to automatically soothe the crying infant, who was still crying, but her cries were lessening with each second Bobby held her. "So sorry for the mix-up." The person behind the counter said.

"I'm not." The father kind of blurted out, revealing he was greatly relieved that Bobby had commanded he hand over the baby girl. She was so exhausted from all of the crying that Bobby could feel her yielding into him, so he popped the pacifier that was clipped to her collar into her mouth, and she started drifting off as Bobby paid for his prescription. Without a word to the father, Bobby simply handed the now almost sleeping baby girl back to him, and left the pharmacy with his prescription in hand.

* * *

**Author's Note:** tygerlillee offered this one up. When I was young, I think I was like Mike (wouldn't have waited for the prescription, or with the crying baby), now that I am not-so-young, I think I'm like Alex. Of course, there is probably no one quite like Bobby. Thanks for the continued reviews and offering more scenes. I enjoy writing them, I hope you are enjoying reading them ;). 


	14. A favorite of mine

**clueimpaired**** asked me - **_**can you include Skoda in one somehow**_

**A/N:** I will happily do this, but I can't seem to do it without referencing some of my prior writing, so forgive me if you are unfamiliar with my OC Lucy Jones.

* * *

Mike Logan sat in the DAs offices, exhausted. His day had started before dawn, and it was now well after sunset. He had been summoned to the ADAs desk to provide some information on a current case. Instead he found himself cooling his jets on a small couch type thing outside her office. He was leaning back, his head on the wall, his eyes closed. 

He could hear Jack McCoy's voice around the corner. Mike couldn't help but think back all those many years to when Jack was EADA and Mike was assigned to the 2-7. He and McCoy hadn't always seen eye to eye, but they had a grudging respect for one another. It was hard to believe McCoy was now DA.

"Well, congratulations on your engagement. You're a lucky man. She's the real thing." McCoy was saying.

"Thanks." The other voice responded. Mike thought the voice familiar, but couldn't quite place it, until the two men came around the corner. Mike smiled to himself, McCoy was talking with Emil Skoda, and the real thing was none other than Lucy Jones. For once, Mike and McCoy agreed on something, Mike knew Skoda's fiancé, and indeed any man would be lucky to have her. Mike found himself thinking about her incredible scrambled eggs, which made him hungry, which made him wonder how the hell long he was supposed to wait on this unbearably uncomfortable tiny couch waiting for the ADA.

* * *

Alex Eames was grouchy. Her mother's most recent stab at her about a family of her own was actually eating away at her subconscious. She usually could let her mother's jabs go, and she had the other night when her mother had actually said the words, but the past few days, every where she looked she saw happy couples, walking together holding hands, smiling, laughing, kissing. All of this made Alex feel very, very grouchy. 

She couldn't even seem to escape it at work. You would think a police station wouldn't be rife with such displays of public affection, but quite the contrary seemed true. Maybe it was that Valentine's Day was coming. She figured that maybe the Hallmark holiday had probably made her overly sensitive to both her mother's remark and what felt like the ever present displays she was currently witnessing.

Today, she could see a couple in the distance, the woman's arms wrapped lightly around the man's neck, his hand tucking her hair behind her ear so he could kiss her temple. Their exchange was brief, but very intimate. Alex was embarrassed that she was staring, or more like glaring, for when she drew closer she recognized the couple as Emil Skoda and Lucy Jones. Luckily they didn't notice her. She thanked god for that, and promised herself she would stop grouchily glaring at all of the happiness around her, and put her energies into finding some of her own.

* * *

Never in his wildest dreams did Bobby Goren ever think he would be sitting at a bar sharing a scotch with Emil Skoda. They had someone they loved in common, and they had both had a serious scare involving her. Lucy Jones had a history of seizures, and now migraines, and some of her tests had come back inconclusive so she was in the hospital for some more invasive tests and observation. The doctors kept saying they had ruled out most of the major serious stuff, so it had really thrown Bobby for a loop to find out she had been admitted for 48 hours. He had visited her, and after leaving the hospital, he had walked down the block and across the street to grab a drink before heading home. He was surprised to find Emil Skoda at the same bar. 

"Skoda." Bobby said. He had thought about leaving, but impulsively had decided to stay. He could tell Skoda was a few scotches ahead of him. Bobby sat down next to him and they drank in an almost companionable silence for a while. "She's going to be Ok." Bobby said.

"I wish you hadn't phrased that as a question." Skoda responded, referring to the unintentional upward lilt in Bobby's tone, that turned what he meant to be a statement into kind of an apprehensive question. "But yeah, she's going to be Ok. I need that, you know, for her to be Ok." Skoda's deep voice was raw, honest.

"So do I." Bobby agreed.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hmmm... this makes me miss my other series. But I have more of these scenes swirling around in my noggin. Let me know what you think... should I stay with a few more of these? I have been mulling over how to write the next one... 


	15. Something misheard

_**Something misheard**_

_**

* * *

**_Mike Logan was standing in his kitchen, a towel wrapped around his waist, drinking a glass of water. Fresh out the shower, she walked into the kitchen, her skin flushed from the heat of the water and the heat of what they had been doing prior to the shower. He visually followed a trail of clothes from the front door, past the kitchen, toward the bedroom. 

"Mike, could you hand me the mustard?" She asked, dropping her towel from around her breasts, and placing it on her wet hair. He looked at her for a moment, not knowing what she planned to do with mustard, but when a gorgeous naked woman asks you for mustard, you hand her the mustard. So, he opened his fridge and handed her a container of mustard. She held it in her hand for a moment, looking at him, smiling.

"What am I supposed to do with this?" She asked, looking at his bare chest. "I don't exactly like mustard." She laughed, making it clear to him that she thought he wanted her to squirt it on his chest or something, kind of like food-play.

"You said - _hand me the mustard_." Mike said, quirking his eyebrow.

"I said, hand me my shirt." She replied, still looking at the mustard. "But, if you're into this kind of thing, maybe you should start with the basics, like whipped cream." She kidded him.

* * *

Alex Eames sat in the park with her nephew. She was sitting on the ground watching him play trucks. She was surprised when he jumped to his feet, hollering at her. 

"Aunt Alex, Aunt Alex, a centipede." He was jumping around as he said the words. Alex followed suit and jumped to her feet, and started scanning the ground. She hated centipedes, all of their wriggly legs and the way their body kind of twisted and turned as they moved. She had resisted the urge and managed not to jump up on the park bench, but her subconscious had her half way reaching for her weapon, as if she were going to start shooting at the disgusting little creature.

"Aunt Alex, a centipede." He said again, more urgently, a bit louder. Alex was still scanning the ground, watching him dance around. He was looking at her like she was crazy for not responding more quickly. She turned to ask him to point out the offending centipede, and she noticed he was doing a little dance, almost holding his pants. The horrible thought entered her brain that the centipede had somehow crawled up his pants leg.

"Where?" Alex asked, trying not to scare him further.

"Here." He pointed to his pants. "I need to pee, I can feel it here." He said, kind of jumping from one foot to the next. Alex looked at him for a long moment, finally realizing that he had never said – _centipede_.

"Oh, you need to pee. I'm so sorry honey. That I can handle." Alex smiled and took him by his hand to head off to the bathroom area.

* * *

"I love you too." Bobby Goren said the words, his voice thick with sleep. He was just coming out of anesthesia after having undergone an appendectomy. She was sitting in recovery with him. He had been a bit anxious and physical when he started to wake, so in an effort to maybe help him keep calm the nurses had let her back to sit with him. 

Her mouth opened a bit when she realized what he had said. She thought it sounded as if he was saying the words in response to something she had said. Her brain slowed as she tried to figure out what she had said to prompt such a response. She remembered, she had her hands lightly placed on his arm, thinking that he looked so vulnerable in his hospital gown, in the small hospital bed, and she was recalling how life just seemed to pile adverse events on top of him. So, she had closed her eyes and made a small prayer for him and then she whispered to him, _I worry for you_. She had never really said that to him - that she worried for him. Mostly she tried to be strong for him, and there for him. She thought that perhaps he had misheard her.

His words continued to echo in her brain. He hadn't said he was in love with her. Maybe somehow _I love you too_ was a bit different than when someone looks you in the eye, very intimately, and tells you they love you. She knew that maybe she was splitting hairs, but being in love with someone in a romantic kind of way was a bit different from loving a friend, or simply loving someone. Maybe he had just automatically echoed back the words he thought he had heard from her. Yet, even though she was about 100 percent positive he would not remember the exchange once he was coherent again, a large part of her felt that some bells cannot be unrung.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Thanks to aspiemom for this one! I don't know why I am always so serious with Bobby. Maybe I should go back and drown myself in seasons 1 through 5 when he was a bit more light of heart. Anyway, thanks for the reviews. You know – they are very welcomed :) 


	16. Shopping for a gift

_**Shopping for a gift**_

_**

* * *

**_Mike Logan walked into the chocolate store. He wasn't exactly in a serious relationship, it was more like dating, but it was her birthday, so he felt he needed to do something. It was always awkward when a gift giving occasion occurred in a relationship that wasn't exactly defined. For Mike, it resulted in last minute shopping for a lame gift. He browsed the store for a while, picking up a box of chocolates, looking at a display of chocolate covered strawberries, lifting up a beautifully packaged container of chocolate sauce. He couldn't help but smile when he thought of the _mustard mistake_. He wondered if chocolate sauce was considered basic in food-play. 

"Sir, can I help you with something?" A woman's voice brought his attention around, and he realized he had actually jumped. The sales woman had caught him in some particularly explicit thoughts.

"Um, no, I'm fine." Mike replied, still holding the chocolate syrup.

"Please let me know if you need anything." The sales woman offered before she returned to the register. Mike smiled as he set the chocolate syrup back on the shelf. He decided that taking her for a nice dinner would probably be his best bet. Chocolate sauce could be awfully sticky.

* * *

Alex Eames couldn't figure out how she had gotten invited to a birthday party for ME Elizabeth Rodgers. Captain Ross had caught her kind of randomly in the elevator and invited her to stop in on a birthday celebration at a nearby restaurant. He had asked her to extend the invitation to her partner Goren as well. She had, and Goren had indicated he would stop by, though he had also looked a bit puzzled over the invite.

Alex stood in the stationery store thinking that Goren was probably not even going to bring a gift, and that he would be let off the hook for such an oversight. But Alex knew that a small something would probably be appropriate. Alex picked up a package of stationery with the script letter "R" as the header. She was paying at the register when the thought randomly occurred to her that if Rodgers and Ross were to get married, and Rodgers changed her name, she wouldn't have to change her initial. The thought made her shiver. She frowned as she considered if they were to marry, would she be invited to the wedding and be required to buy a gift for that as well?

* * *

Bobby Goren hated shopping for gifts. He hadn't exactly received a lot of gifts in his life, and he thought that perhaps handicapped in terms of the whole gift giving process. He walked into the florist shop, looking in the cold case at all of the beautiful arrangements. His eyes scanned across the mixed bouquet, bright colors, different sized blossoms, very nice. Next, he considered the bouquets of roses, all in red, all in white, mixed colors. Roses were the flower of romance. He wondered about romance, he hadn't exactly had a lot of that in his life either. He moved across the store, running his fingers across scented candles and dried flowers. Dried flowers were an interesting thought, they lasted a long time.

"Can I help you with something sir?" The sales woman called from near the register. Bobby shook his head no. His fingers fell upon a metal dish of polished stones, different colors and shapes, very pleasing to the eye, their smooth surfaces pleasing to his fingers. He picked up a particular stone, in the shape of a heart. He ran his thumb across the surface. This was perfect.

"I'll take this." Bobby walked to the counter with the stone.

"Those are very lovely on the surface of the soil in a potted plant." The sales woman offered, trying to up her sale by convincing him to buy a plant.

"No thank, this will do." Bobby replied, he indicated he didn't need a bag. He placed the stone in his pocket. He was on his way to visit his mother's gravesite, and a friend of his had reminded him that there was a tradition of placing a stone on the grave marker to let others know you had been there.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: pfchristine suggested "shopping for a gift" (thanks!). And, thanks for all of your reviews! It is nice to log in and see that people are reading. 


	17. Worry and wait

_**Worry and Wait**_

* * *

Mike Logan sat in Captain Ross's office. He had been waiting for what seemed like an eternity, in reality it had only been about 15 minutes. The Captain had set the meeting that morning, and Mike had rushed to return to the squad to be on time to Ross's office.

At first Mike had stood around a bit awkwardly, looking out the blinds through the glass walls to see if Ross was nearby. Mike couldn't see him anywhere, so after a few minutes Mike sat down, thinking that any second Ross would stride through the door. Ross had been a bit cryptic when he had set the meeting, referencing that it was about Mike's partner. Unfortunately, Mike neglected to ask _which _partner.

Mike crossed and uncrossed and recrossed his legs. Then restlessly, he returned to standing, thinking about maybe waiting at his desk. He was worried that something was wrong. Ross was rarely late, and to be called to the principal's office in reference to your partner, without your current partner, was usually a bad omen. Mike reached up and touched his chest, thinking that maybe while he was waiting at his desk he would take an antacid.

He was reaching for the door when he saw Ross enter the squad. However, Mike's eyes were not on Ross. His eyes were on his partner, who was walking with the captain. Megan Wheeler offered him a smile and a nod, and Mike could feel his world view changing. She had said she would be back, and Mike realized he had been worrying and waiting all year wondering if she would hold to her word.

* * *

Alex Eames sat in the hospital's surgical waiting room. She held a very old, very cold cup of coffee, her stomach lurching over the thought of ingesting more caffeine without any food. Time had passed slowly, waiting for her sister to come out of surgery. She kept thinking that any moment the surgeon would come in and apprise her and the rest of her family about her sister's condition. Alex was not very good at waiting, and she realized she was even less suited for worrying. She liked to act, to solve, to close things. She arranged her life so that she did not often find herself sitting and waiting and worrying.

In the week leading up to the surgery, Alex had gone with her sister and listened to the doctors. There was a solid chance that her sister's prognosis would be good. Her mother moved to sit beside her, so Alex gently tossed the ancient cup of coffee into the nearby trash and reached out to hold her mother's hand. Everyone's breathing seemed to stop at once when the doctor walked into the waiting room.

"The surgery went well…" The surgeon started to say, and continued to let everyone know that the prognosis was favorable. Everyone in the room seemed to uniformly resume breathing. Alex could feel her mother squeeze her hand, and Alex closed her eyes. She kept it to herself, but she knew that even though the surgery had gone well and the prognosis was positive, the road ahead held some more worrying and some more waiting.

* * *

Bobby Goren spent the first few decades of his life either worrying or waiting, both related to things in his family that were completely out of his control. As soon as he was old enough to take control of his life, it was as if he lost the capacity to do either. Now, most people thought of him as a bit impulsive by nature. He always seemed to act as soon as information gelled in his brain, and he rarely worried about the ramifications of his actions.

He was supposed to meet his friend Lucy for dinner. She had called to say that she was running about an hour late, very unlike his friend. So he was a bit worried, wondering what could be keeping her and why she couldn't mention it when she had called. He had said he would wait, which surprised him a bit. Normally he would've tried to reschedule, or simply arranged to meet her someplace when she was free and he wouldn't have to wait. It occurred to him, that he was beginning to remember that a life in balance, with people that brought some worry, that made you want to wait a little, was perhaps a life more worth while.

* * *

_**Author's Note:**_ I hope Megan Wheeler returns this fall (or sooner, if there is a sooner)! Le Bibliothecaire offered up "wait" and "worry". My brain put them together. 


	18. Before they go to bed

_**The detectives before they go to bed**_

_**

* * *

**_Mike Logan did not realize it, but he not only had a bed time routine, he had an entire evening routine. 

On Mondays and Wednesdays he would stop at his favorite bar on the way home from work and have a drink or two, and also have dinner. He would chat with the bartender, watch whatever was on TV, and just generally enjoy the company of a familiar place.

Tuesdays and Saturdays were date night. He would spend the evening with whatever woman was his current favorite. They would go for dinner, or for drinks, or maybe even for a movie or to a club to listen to some music.

Thursdays he seemed to always catch a big case, which had him working late both Thursday and Friday.

Sundays he tried to keep open, but even they were developing a pattern. He would spend the afternoon and evening watching whatever sport was in season, football, basketball, and sometimes both. Occasionally he would find himself at Phil's house, sometimes he even found himself watching ball with Goren. But, he always spent Sunday with a friend.

* * *

Alex Eames stood in her bathroom rubbing moisturizer onto her face. She loved her bed time routine, and she loved when she had time for her bed time routine. She liked to take her time brushing her teeth, washing her face, moisturizing her skin. She liked to check her nails, fingers and toes. She liked to brush her hair. She liked to wear clean pajamas to bed each night. Tonight, she had the time to do all of those things; however she chose to omit one. She didn't plan to wear clean pajamas to bed tonight. She didn't plan to wear pajamas at all. So, when she stepped from the bathroom to her bedroom to join someone in bed, the bathroom light silhouetted her lithe naked form. She smiled. Yes, she loved her bed time routine, and she was beginning to love the fact that she had a man that was a part of it.

* * *

Bobby Goren no longer had a bed time routine.

Up until a few months ago, he had a routine. He would go to work, come home, either call or go by and visit his mother, get something to eat, read a book or watch some TV, and go to bed. His mother's illness had strangely brought a rhythm to his existence. The combination of dealing with work and dealing with her failing health pretty much consumed his every waking hour. However with the loss of her, his life was spiraling out of alignment.

Nowadays his bed time routine was more about how to avoid bed time. He didn't like milling about his empty apartment, he didn't like sleeping in his empty room. To avoid bed time, he randomly rifled through several options. Sometimes he would stay at work. But this seemed to take a toll on Eames, she had a life outside of work, and when he stayed and she wanted to leave, his staying unjustly made her feel guilty for leaving. So, he couldn't always stay at work. Other times, he landed at a friend's house. He enjoyed spending time with his friend Lucy, and often found himself sleeping at her house, on her couch. He also enjoyed having sex with his lovely CSU friend, so sometimes he spent time are her place. And finally, to avoid bed time, he simply got incredibly drunk and passed out some place. Sometimes that was his place, and sometimes that was Lucy's place, but that was never related to staying at work or having sex with the CSU.

It was a strange state of affairs to not have a bed time routine. He appreciated that his friend Lucy pressed upon him the importance of a good night's sleep, and he was doing his best to achieve that end, so it was ironic that the best night's sleep was usually spent on her couch.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Thanks to Aubrinaa for this recommendation. And since Aubrinaa mentioned she likes my OC Lucy, here she is again with Bobby. As I re-read these, it looks almost like I write them in order, from playful to depressing. But I don't, I write them out of order, whichever one pops into my brain first gets put onto the page first. Then, I present them as "Mike", "Alex", and "Bobby". Enjoy - and thanks for the reviews, they keep me motivated! 


	19. First job

**_First job_**

* * *

Mike Logan's first job was as a barback. The owner of the joint was a neighborhood friend, and Mike needed the scratch to help make ends meet, like paying the rent and buying groceries. He was 14 years old, so they paid him in cash under the table. Most everything went to helping with the bills, but sometimes he could pull a small bit aside to play some video games. 

He didn't mind the job, the owner was a good guy. He didn't mind the physical part of the work, at 14 he had endless energy. He didn't mind having to put in the time, looking back he realized that having to have a job at such an early age had kept him out of a lot of trouble. But, he did mind that his mom started to come into the bar and get drunk and try to get free drinks out of him. So, in the end, he had to quit that job, and find another. His next job was at the neighborhood grocery. At least his drunk of a mother rarely came in and tried to bum free groceries.

* * *

Alex Eames's first job was as a veterinarian's assistant. She loved the job, she loved animals, and she loved the thought of saving the lives of the things she loved. Her first months on the job, she mainly worked in the back, caring for the animals kenneled at the vet, helping care for them, helping them convalesce. 

One week, someone was out on vacation, so the veterinarian asked Alex to assist in more of the procedures. Up until that point, by some twist of circumstance, she had never lost an animal in her care. Some of the animals that came in for treatment, for surgery, didn't make it through, but it had never happened on her shift. She remembered the moment very clearly, when that changed. The dog was old, feeble, and was in pain. The decision to euthanize had been a difficult one for the owners, but it was a good decision, it was a humane decision for the dog. The veterinarian had asked Alex to hold the dog for the injections, and Alex had acquiesced. She thought she could handle it. So she held the dog, and stroked his head. She could feel the life just slip away. She managed to keep it together until after her shift, but as soon as she left, she cried and cried. She realized with absolute clarity that she could never be a veterinarian. Eventually she became a cop, and she was the kind of cop that would fight the fight until the end, and as a cop she would never be in the position where it would be the right thing to let a life slip away.

* * *

Bobby Goren's first job was shelving books at the university library. He was 15 years old, and came by the job by chance. He was forever in the library, reading, watching, listening to the lives around him. One of librarians took notice of him, and asked him if he would be interested in a part time job. Because of his age, she had to jump through some special hoops to get him on the university pay roll, but she told him it was worth the trouble to have such a reliable, hard working person on staff. He loved that job, he loved the library, which really should have been no surprise, since his mother was a librarian. What was surprising, however, was that his mother never knew that he ever had a job at a library, and the university librarian never knew that his mother was also a librarian. At a very early age, he had learned to keep home separate from school separate from work.

* * *

**_Author's Note_**: deliriousdancer fills my head full of great possibilities. I have a few of hers bouncing around in my brain, but "first job" made it to the page. I wonder how our first jobs define us...


	20. A day at the fair

_**A day at the fair**_

I'm shaking things up a bit, and presenting these in a different order. Alex, then Bobby, and then Mike :).

* * *

Alex Eames was laughing. She'd had an incredible day at the fair. She had allowed her current interest, an NYPD firefighter, to convince her to come with him and his buddies to the fair. At first she had been a bit reticent. She had kept her involvement with him relatively private; he was a bit younger than she was and she wasn't quite certain what her family would think. She thought that going some place with ½ dozen of his friends didn't feel so private, but she rationalized they weren't exactly cops. She convinced herself that maybe firefighters didn't exactly socialize much in cop circles. So, she thought the chance of her family learning about her involvement with him was fairly slim. In the end, she had accepted his invite. She was glad she had, she was immediately swept up in their raucous fun.

At the end of the evening, she found herself enjoying a large cup of incredibly yummy French fries, listening to him and his friends swap stories. He had his arm lightly around her, idly running his fingers in familiar lines on her skin. She was smiling, his touch felt great, he felt great, and she realized she felt great.

* * *

Bobby Goren was happy. He'd had an incredible day at the fair. Originally he had thought he was going with his CSU friend, but in the end he'd come with Lucy. He realized that his experience would have been quite different with the CSU. He knew that she would have crammed his large frame on every tiny ride at the fair, and he most likely would have been feeling a little queasy and a whole lot sore from all of the jostling around on the brittle metal rides. He might've had fun; however the CSU had to work, so spontaneously he had phoned Lucy, and he had definitely had fun with Lucy.

Lucy kind of followed him along at his pace. They poked through the fair, playing games at the booths. She had even won a small beanbag cow by tossing rings onto the top of old fashioned glass coke bottles. They had just come from the maze of mirrors and decided to people watch for a while. They were sitting on a bench, Lucy was drinking a super sized, super sweet plastic cup of lemonade and Bobby was munching on a large puff of bright pink cotton candy. He really was happy, and he was relaxed.

"Is that Eames?" Lucy said, gesturing with a small move of her chin to where Eames sat with a table full of NYPD firefighters.

"Yeah." Bobby smiled to himself. Eames was smiling, and laughing, and one of the fire fighters had his arm around her.

"I think she's dating that firefighter." Lucy smiled.

"I think she's doing more than dating him." Bobby smiled, noticing the way the guy had his arm around Eames, and the smile on her face. Bobby thought that she was so busted. All of her privacy about why she was skedaddling out of the squad on-time practically every night suddenly made sense to him. She had some place to be, and it was clear to him it was with the firefighter. Bobby was happy for her; Eames deserved to have some fun, even though the guy did look a bit young.

* * *

Mike Logan was mentally exhausted. He'd had an incredible day at the fair. He had not anticipated that practically everyone he knew within NYPD would be there on the same night. At one point, he was buying a hot dog, loading it down with all of the fixings, and he looked over to see a million Bobby Goren's in the maze of mirrors. He shuddered, one Bobby Goren was plenty.

About an hour later, he had just disembarked the Ferris wheel and was on his way to buy an enormous cup of French fries and slather them in vinegar when he spotted Alex Eames giggling amongst a herd of NYPD firefighters. Mike couldn't decide what disturbed him more, Eames giggling, or the fact that she was surrounded by firefighters. Mike also couldn't help but notice the particular firefighter she appeared to be with seemed a bit younger.

"I'm not sure that drinking a beer really settles your stomach." Mike's date was smiling at him, as he stood sipping a beer. He could feel all of the food at the fair catching up with him, and short of a gingerale, he was hoping some beer might calm things down a bit. But, he thought to himself that even if the beer didn't settle his stomach, maybe it would blur his brain a bit from remembering a million Bobby Gorens and a giggling Alex Eames.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: janxangel volunteered this scene (thx!). Very fun. I love cotton candy. 


	21. Dancing with myself

_**Dancing with myself**_

**Billy Idol**

_So let's sink another drink  
'Cause it'll give me time to think  
If I had the chance  
I'd ask the world to dance  
And I'll be dancing with myself_

So… what were you doing in the 80s when this was on MTV?

* * *

Mike Logan, who had recently made detective, was shot gunning a beer at a back yard barbeque, with his buddies. He was wearing incredibly tight jeans, a too-tight shirt the color of an Easter egg (collar turned up), with his black hair perfectly feathered, and his magnificent eyes hidden behind an incredibly dark pair of wayfarers. 

Alex Eames was jumping around her high school best friend's bed room, with ear phones on that were so big they practically covered half her head. She was wearing skin tight jordache jeans with the big white winged pattern on the pockets. She had huge permed hair, big bangs, and a t-shirt that was ripped and kind of falling off one of her shoulders.

Bobby Goren had just finished his undergrad education, he was in the Army, soon to be headed off to Germany. He was partying pretty hard with his room-mates, and had just consumed 4 beers through a beer bong. His acid washed jeans were so faded, there were holes across the thighs and the ass, and he was contemplating making out with some chick, who through his drunken stupor, looked so smoking hot she could've been Jennifer Beals.

* * *

**_Author's Note:_** Lennigeorge offered this one. Oh how I do not miss the 80s (when shorts were short and socks were strangely long). I remember, I had these jeans that were so tight, you could see the seam impressions in my skin from my hip all the way down to my ankle long after I took them off... 


	22. First apartment

_**A first apartment**_

* * *

Mike Logan walked through the door. This place was his, he had signed the papers at the bank that morning. He'd had plenty of "first apartments" in his life. He had a first apartment when he had moved in with roommates. He had a first apartment where he had moved in by himself. But this was his first place that he actually owned. He was a little intimidated by the prospect of investing in such a place, but in the end he knew the purchase was long overdue. There was fresh paint on the walls, and the wood floors were bare and clean. The place was empty except for a new set of mattresses in the master bedroom. He couldn't believe how much he was looking forward to sleeping in his new bed, in his home. He walked from room to room, taking in the space, breathing in the space. He jiggled the keys in his hand, his space. He smiled. 

A knock at the door brought his attention around. He walked over, opening it slowly, and she was standing on the other side smiling. Without saying a word, he simply reached out and scooped her up into his arms and carried her over the threshold.

"Mike Logan, we're not married." She laughed, wrapping her arms around his neck.

"That's just because you won't say yes." Mike replied, as he gently set her back onto her feet in the middle of the empty living space. "So, in celebration of shacking up, carrying you through the door seemed in order. And since this is your place too, next time you probably shouldn't knock." He kissed her lightly on the temple. He loved this place, he knew he was about to fill it with plenty of "firsts".

* * *

Alex Eames walked through the door. She was smiling so wide her face hurt. 

"Oh my god, look at this." Her roommate Kate was standing in front of her holding up two sets of keys. "Our place, our keys." Kate hopped up and down out practically bursting with excitement. "Your keys." Kate tossed a set of keys to Alex, who caught them. She jiggled them in her palm.

Alex looked around the empty space, imaging Kate's parent's old green sofa, her mom's solid brown table, the new TV her father had purchased her as a housewarming present. Alex thought about the bedroom. She was moving her double bed and dresser from her parents' house to this apartment, but she had saved up and bought new sheets and blankets. She looked in the kitchen, where Kate's mom had donated plates and pans, and her mom had donated flatware and glasses.

"Our place." Alex smiled, looking at Kate. Alex closed her eyes for a moment. She had just recently finished at the academy, and had received her first assignment. She wrapped her arms around herself and whispered, "let life begin."

* * *

Bobby walked through the door. He inhaled deeply, searching for a steadying breath. A first apartment. He turned to close the door behind him, making sure the door closed securely, checking the strength of the locks. He walked across the living space, sliding his feet across the bare wood floor. He stopped near the window, looking down at the busy street. He reached out and tested the window, testing to see if it felt sturdy, again checking the lock. He moved to the kitchen were cardboard boxes held plates, and pots, and pans. Slowly he moved from the kitchen back toward the small bedroom. The double bed looked large in the small space. He reached into a nearby bag and pulled out a mattress pad, soft white sheets, and a deep blue blanket. He started to make the bed. He pulled the sheets tight, he made the blanket smooth, he plumped the pillows. Afterward he moved to the window, making sure the bedroom window was secure. 

"Dad, it's great." Bobby Goren turned to see his grown daughter standing in the bedroom doorway. It was her first apartment, and he was surprised by the strange mix of feelings inside of him. "Have you checked all the locks?" She asked, her smile was just like her mother's. Bobby nodded, his daughter knew him well. She walked forward, wrapping her arms around him, putting her face against his shoulder. "What're you and mom going to do? I'm the last one to move out." His daughter said. And he realized, in kind of a bitter sweet way, that this was probably his last first apartment. He thought of his life, how at certain times, everything shifted in a blink of an eye. He spent a lot of decades never imaging a family of his own, daughters of his own, a wife of his own.

"We'll find something to do." Bobby replied. His wife still made his heart stand still. He had no doubt, they'd find something to do.

* * *

_**Author's Note**_: Deliriousdancer offered this one to me (thx!). A little fast forward for Bobby :) (and for Mike, I guess). So, with this, I think I'll call "Parallel" a wrap. I can't thank you all enough for your reviews. They really do keep me posting. Without feedback, I think I would wither away… 


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